


Growing Pains

by Jay_Lee_Leuis



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Lee_Leuis/pseuds/Jay_Lee_Leuis
Summary: After Shepard manages to get poisoned on Omega, Miranda Lawson is not amused. Set at the beginning of ME2.





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick unedited prompt fill!

Miranda paced her office, seething. The first foray into Omega had not, to put it mildly, been a success. Not five minutes after walking into some sleazy club, the illustrious Commander Shepard had managed to get herself poisoned by a Batarian. She was fine, fortunately, or at least she seemed fine. There were tests to be run, but Miranda was not overly concerned. It was a good thing Miranda had put her back together again better than new, or they would have had a real mess on their hands right about now. 

And in an incredible display of ingratitude, the Commander had banished her to her office while Chakwas ran the necessary tests. Miranda would get her hands on the results anyway, doctor-patient confidentiality be damned. And she would have to have a word with Shepard.

It seemed she wouldn’t have long to wait, as Shepard herself stepped through the door. “Miranda,” she said. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“Not at all,” Miranda replied. It was difficult not to stare at Shepard, not to marvel at how confidently she occupied the space without even trying, the casual way she scanned a room whenever she entered. Miranda could have lost herself staring at Shepard, wondering what she was thinking, what she was feeling. She had spent two years with Shepard -- in a sense -- but the living woman in front of her was worlds apart from the silent corpse Miranda had grown so accustomed to. But now wasn’t exactly the time to dissect her feelings on the matter. 

“I have to say, I hadn’t expected you to drop by quite so soon.” Miranda settled into the chair behind her desk, taking shelter in the formality as Shepard sat across from her.

Shepard shot her a genial grin. “Oh, I never like to put off a fight if I can avoid it. But you know that, I assume.”

“I wouldn’t have said you were the type to take questionable drinks from a Batarian either,” Miranda replied. “So perhaps neither of us should be making assumptions as to what I do and do not know.”

Shepard’s steady gaze didn’t waver. “That was. . . a momentary lapse of judgment.”

Miranda shook her head. “Please don’t expect me to believe that, Shepard. You’re a seasoned veteran and an alliance commander. You know better than I do that drinking on the job isn’t a ‘momentary lapse of judgment,’ even if you don’t happen to get poisoned from it.” Miranda gave her a long look over the top of her console. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Shepard actually laughed. “I’m sure no one ever tells you you’re wrong.”

“Then maybe you can help me understand,” Miranda said, “what the _hell_ happened.”

Shepard smiled crookedly, twisting the scars that still glowed across her face. “I don’t know, Lawson,” she said. “Why don’t you go ask Kelly Chambers about the psychological effects of bringing someone back from the dead after two years, telling them their crew is dead and their friends have moved on, and then twisting their arm into working with their worst enemy.” Shepard stood up. “I’m sure she would have some fascinating insights into the subject.”

Miranda pressed her lips together tightly. “We should have had more time, Shepard,” she said. “But that isn’t something we can afford right now.” This was a mess, it wasn’t a problem she could solve and she knew it. Not for the first time, Miranda silently cursed the Illusive Man for putting the both of them in this situation and expecting a miracle. “For what little it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Shepard stared for a moment, seeming about to say something, but then she shook her head. “We both have work to do,” she said. “I should go.”

Mirada watched her as she left, back straight. This was the woman they were all depending on, for better or for worse. If the galaxy needed a miracle from Shepard, what did Shepard need? A friend maybe, and Miranda was under no illusions that it could be her. She pulled up the docket on Archangel, wheels turning in her mind. She hadn’t wanted to recruit Vakarian, not yet. Bringing in Shepard’s old crew was dangerous, it could compromise their security, and there were already too many former Alliance soldiers with lingering sympathies in this crew for her comfort. But perhaps it was time to explore that possibility. Miranda sent a few messages to her sources in Omega and began to formulate a plan.


End file.
